


seeds

by shakespearespaz



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Kissing, Post The Timeless Children, The TARDIS - Freeform, also me: but maybe some Soft????, but as if the final cliffhanger didn't happen bc i refuse to acknowledge that, cyberium - Freeform, it gets yeeted out of the master, me: write something that could maybe happen in canon, me: write them Vicious like they are, setting: a forest somewhere in space, so there's, still me: a kiss???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:42:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23101156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shakespearespaz/pseuds/shakespearespaz
Summary: Thirteen and the Master fight it and talk it out post The Timeless Children.(aka I just wanted to bring them back from the brink a little/a lot)
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 175





	seeds

The Doctor took her moment.

It didn’t last as long as she thought it would. Too much was swirling around her head, and she couldn’t keep it all straight. There was so much she kept replaying over and over and over again, searching for anything that might make sense.

The coordinates to reunite her with the fam were all plugged in and ready to go, but her hand hovered over the lever.

She wanted to pull it. She wanted to materialize exactly and when and where she’d sent them. She wanted step out of her TARDIS as they stepped out of theirs and watch them break into relieved smiles. She wanted to confirm for herself that they were alive and whole in the 21st century, and no more damaged because of her. She wanted them back in her TARDIS, with Ryan and Graham shaking their head at a shared joke in the corner, and Yaz staring up at her with the wide eyes, asking where to next.

Too much was unfinished for such a happy reunion. She wouldn’t be able to share in their smiles or stare into Yaz’s wide brown eyes without being reminded of someone else’s wide, pleading eyes.

She saved the coordinates for later.

Instead, she sent out a message, across the time waves, on a very specific, very personal frequency. Her TARDIS groaned when she twisted the dial.

“I’m not too soft,” she said, defending her actions, “Besides, it has to be done.”

The ship groaned again as she set the new coordinates, but had no choice but to take their foolish companion where they wished.

The Doctor swung the door open. A forest stretched out before her. The trees near her were young, green sprouting off their bark and thin, twig like branches shooting out at all angles.

“This is where I leave you,” she told her best mate, closing the door softly.

Pushing aside the young leaves, the Doctor pushed into the forest. At first the ground was almost bare, and it was not hard to pick her way among the undergrowth and dead leaves. The trees grew taller. The ground grew mossier, and ferns began to narrow the path. She kept walking, using only the small, deliberate rock piles for guidance. The warmth of the sun began to fade, and she shivered. She wasn’t sure if it was the dropping temperature or her own apprehension. Life changed too. The scattered butterflies and songbirds seemed to disappear the deeper she went. They were replaced with bushes that seemed to dart between trees in the dim light, and branches that appeared to come alive ever so briefly, before turning still and silent once again.

Finally, the stones stopped, and she picked her way carefully around some brambles. She was almost successful, but a thorn seemed to grab just as she was almost through, leaving a thin trail of blood along her arm. Beyond the obstacle, there was a clearing, grass that managed to stay green against all odds and a wide, flat stone in the middle.

He was already there.

“You could’ve parked closer.”

“And miss a walk through the woods? Never.”

“You disgust me.”

He meant it, locking eyes with her in the cool, dim clearing. She didn’t rise to it. Instead, she softened.

“You escaped,” she said lightly.

“Clearly.”

“And your friends?”

She sneered slightly on the word _friends_. He advanced. She could see it was in him still, in his manic eyes, burning through his dark skin, glinting in the low light.

“Too slow and stupid,” he spat, “Figures. They were born of you.”

“And you,” she nodded.

He laughed loudly. His patience with his existence was wearing thin.

“Why did you bring me here, Doctor?”

“You brought yourself. I only asked.”

He stopped and shook his head. Then he shook it again, back and forth, increasing in rigor. He froze, looking up at her, like an animal deciding between fight and flight. The Doctor had known a lot of fear over the past few days, but his energy was novel. She didn’t know who was the predator and who was the prey. He erupted.

“No more,” he cried, in a quick lunge, one hand burying itself in her hair, pulling tight and the other wrapping around her shoulder, bringing them both to the ground in a violent motion.

Her words came out scattered.

“We know this place. We came here. You and I. Stop. Stop!”

His intentions were unclear, except that he seemed to want to cause her pain. His hand in her hair hurt, and she shoved back, trying to get an edge in.

“This forest—ow! It’s ours! We built it. We stole—we stole—get off!”

She knew where to put her knee to cause optimal damage. He recoiled, enough for her wriggle away, scrambling to her feet. It didn’t stop him though, as he clambered back to her level, hunched over. Her words poured out of her to keep him at bay.

“We stole a ship and came _here._ Eight hundred years ago. _Seeds_.”

He lunged again, but she was more prepared, pushing back.

“We dropped seeds. We thought it was hilarious. Messing with the timeline.”

He lost his balance and fell back, and she fought to pin his arms. A small voice of reason told her to use her pacifist techniques, but she ignored it. They both needed this now.

“It’s _ours._ We planted this forest, long ago.”

He finally stopped, staring up at her with unreadable, glassy eyes. He broke into a Cheshire Cat grin.

“No, we didn’t.”

She shoved his wrists into the ground.

“You don’t remember. And I know _why_.”

She caught sight of it, again in his eyes. It knew they were talking about it.

“The _Cyberium._ ”

He fought back with a vengeance and a snarl. She resisted and continued.

“It’s stealing what’s left of you. And you don’t want to lose those memories. _Trust me._ ”

“She finds out she was serially mind wiped, and suddenly she’s the expert on memory loss—”

“Stop it.”

“No,” he gasped, finally pushing himself into a sitting position.

She still had his wrists, and she yanked him close to her.

“I’ve had the Cyberium inside me. I know how invincible it makes you feel. But let it go.”

He halted. His hands were caught between them, their legs a tangled mess under them, her laser eyes and small, scrunched face inches away.

“You— _you_ had it inside you?”

“Yes.”

He looked almost disappointed, his eyes darkening, before the silver lit him up again.

“Then you know,” he whispered, pulling them closer together, “how it courses through your veins and tickles you and caresses you and amplifies it all.”

In one quick motion, he yanked his hands away and caught her wrists, flipping the dynamic.

“The pain, the adrenaline, the scheming—oh, the schemes! And the yearning. The desire.”

He dragged them both to their feet, twisting her into him, her wrists still clutched tightly in his sweaty hands. He was behind her, their limbs tangled once again. She could feel his breath hot against her ear.

“It hasn’t given me anything that wasn’t already inside me, Doctor. You want it out of me? Well, there’s only one way to do that.”

She knew what he meant, even before she saw the lighter that he fished out of his pocket.

“I die. The Cyberium leaves me. It’s been a dry year, hasn’t it? Every forest fire begins with a single spark…”

“No.”

She struggled again.

“You couldn’t do it, Doctor. But I can, I’ve always been able to.”

She tried a different angle.

“Don’t you want to know?”

He bit.

“What?” he breathed into her hair again.

“How it got out of me? I’m not dead, am I?”

He quieted for a moment but came roaring back.

“Not _yet_ , dear.”

His grip was like iron, fortified by the Cyberium coursing through his veins, she figured. One hand held the flame, and the other her hands tightly, too tightly to let her get near any pressure points. He wasn’t letting her go. He wanted them to go down together, that much she understood.

“It’s easy,” she managed to get out, “You just _let it go_.”

He laughed into her messy hair, but his face felt wet against her head, perhaps just spit, perhaps tears.

“No wily tricks, Doctor? You just let it go?”

She nodded the best she could, and spoke up and out, spoke to the dark trees around her, since she couldn’t reach the dark soul behind her.

“You stare down all that power, everything that you somehow think will make you better or stronger or _more_. You see it, you acknowledge it. You acknowledge that you want it more than anything. And then you choose. You choose to let it go.”

He let out another quiet chuckle, but she could feel him shaking. Whether he was fighting or succumbing she did not know.

“You just let it go, huh?”

His doubt was clear.

“You have to stop wanting it. Want something else instead. Something more important. Something that burns through your veins even more fiercely than it does.”

He only grunted. His knuckles were fading around her hands, his grip like death. He dropped the lighter and his other hand folded in around her torso, his head pressed tightly into the crook between her neck and shoulder. She could feel something sharp, his teeth, and realized his mouth was open in pain, slowly pressing into her.

“Come on,” she breathed, letting him envelop her, “come _on._ ”

It happened.

His body relaxed, every bit of tension releasing simultaneously. As he collapsed against her, it exited his exhausted form. She could see the silver snake out of the corner of her eye. She twisted to catch her old friend, and to watch the sentient puddle make its way across the clearing. She held her breath.

It drifted away, twisting and turning in the air. Finally, it passed over the wide flat rock. The Cyberium shot downward, entering the stone, the silver melding into the grey as if it had never existed.

She realized that in her arms, his eyes had fluttered open.

“What happened to it? What did you do?” he asked, his voice ragged.

“No, _you_ ,” she answered, “You thought it’d be fun all those years ago to create a biosignature for a rock. To see what you could trick into thinking it was living.”

He laughed, which turned into a pained groan.

“That shouldn’t have worked,” he said.

“No,” she confirmed, “It really shouldn’t have. Maybe the Cyberium is ultimately like its host. Slow and stupid.”

“Hey…” he managed to get out without any bite to it.

The Doctor felt him slump again, truly losing consciousness. She caught him, relaxing too, and twisting her head upward in a moment of mild relief. She could see the gaps between the branches of the canopy, where trees refused to grow into one another. Far above her, she glimpsed small slivers of daylight.

\--

The Master awoke to light above him. A soft glow broke through tiny gaps on the intricate panels on the ceiling. His head hurt and his hearts pounded, but he felt ever so slightly lighter. He sat up.

She was there, sitting on the floor of her TARDIS. She was still, too still for all that she was.

“The Timeless Child,” he sneered, “Victorious as alwa—”

“Shut up.”

Her voice was cold and level. She looked as tired as he felt.

“Congrats,” he said sarcastically, “You managed to get the Cyberium out of me. As if that was all that made me into—”

“Just stop,” she spoke quietly, still staring him down, “You let it go. You chose to take a tiny step back to the light.”

He let out a loud sigh and sank down to the floor, lying on his back.

“You know what I pictured to get it out of me?” he asked the air lightly, before rolling over to face her again and trying to cut her with his words, “Your humans. Trapped, helpless, in agony. And you powerless to stop it, at _my_ mercy. And me, the ringmaster, making all your darkest dreams come true.”

He watched her face for the hint of a reaction. It aggravated him when she didn’t give him one.

“That image was that strong for you?”

The disbelief in her voice was clear, and rage came crawling back, rage that she’d seen right through him. It wasn’t as loud without the Cyberium, but it was there. He flopped back onto his back to settle it.

“What are you going to do with me now, Doctor? Lock me away again?”

He could hear her swallow, and he realized that she still hadn’t moved.

“What do _you_ want, Master?”

The ceiling of her TARDIS danced above him, the dull yellow sharp against the complicated cutouts. If that was the last image he saw, he thought he might be at peace.

“To die.”

She didn’t respond.

“I said,” he announced loudly again, “To _die._ ”

“That’s what I thought,” she finally replied, “I’ve thought on this a lot actually. You don’t get to.”

He let out a belly laugh, and it echoed around the ship.

“And why would you get a say?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her posture stiffen. She released, springing towards him, blocking his view of the ceiling as she leaned over him. 

“I’ve died a hundred times more than you ever will.”

There was a sharp bite of knowing in her words. She must have also thought more deeply on her past. He sat up ramrod straight from the floor, forcing her back. He peered into her ancient eyes. He didn’t know what to say, so he said what had been nagging.

“You were ready to kill me. You left.”

He watched the struggle written across her face. She was guilty but also angry, and he saw the rage bubble to the surface, enjoying the way it made something bubble up inside him.

“I needed to stop the Cybermen. You committed genocide! You _hurt_ —”

She lost her words, her teeth bared, her face inches away. He could see her arms shaking at her sides, hands curled into fists, but he was locked into that injured, vulnerable face. She kept it all restrained though, taking a sharp breath in and returning to sit on her step.

He wasn’t letting her get away that easy.

“It was you,” the Master called to her, scrutinizing her reactions as he deliberately pushed the truth out, “I imagined _you_ to break free from the Cyberium. Not at my mercy, but by my side. Equals.”

She’d barely contained herself, but she was listening. He stood. She didn’t flinch even as he advanced. He closed the distance between them, until he was standing above her, her attentive face looking up, pained.

She spoke before he could.

“Whatever they did to me, what breaks through always seems to be the worst,” she confessed, that anger swirling, “Flashes of violence in dark, cryptic dreams. It’s all still in me. I know—I _know—_ there have to be good things too, love and wonder and _life._ But they took those memories. All that’s left is death.”

Her pain struck deepest in him. He couldn’t help it. He wanted to cause her pain but also to protect her from it, and those two desires could never peacefully coexist within him.

“Then we die together. I don’t want to go on like this,” he continued, convincing, “You being so much _more—_ ”

“I’m not.”

Her voice broke. She choked on all that the spring loaded rage as she stared up at him.

“Entire pieces of me are missing,” she managed to get out, “How is that more?”

Her watery eyes brought him no pleasure, only a nauseous, twisted gut. She plowed forward, the words pouring out of her.

“The answers are out there. I know they are. And I need to know, I want to know. But I’m—I’m terrified of what I might find.”

He couldn’t stand it anymore, staring down at her. She looked so small, and it was all wrong. He sat next to her on the step, no overthinking, no fanfare.

“I can’t do this alone. You know Gallifrey, you know the lengths of their cruelty. You know _me._ You’re not allowed to die, because I need you.”

She turned her heart to look at him. He’d gotten what he wanted, in the most roundabout way he could envision. He was sure he would regret this moment in the long run, but for now he was glad she’d lost her nerve on Gallifrey, was glad he’d run instead of accepting the inevitable, was glad he’d fought the Cyberium. That didn’t mean he knew what to say.

“You _are_ scared,” he said bluntly.

“Aren’t we all?”

He didn’t know how she could stand it. Her gaze held an impossible concoction of fear and possibility and defiance and affection. The two sides of the sliding spectrum of love and hate pulled at him so violently everyday he thought he might rip in two. The Doctor just _was,_ letting all those contradictions exist.

“What do you want from me?” he breathed.

“Unravel this mystery with me, _please._ ”

“And if you don’t like the answers you find?”

She took a sharp breath.

“Then we go from there.”

“And what do I get out of this?”

She furrowed her brow in slight disbelief, and he could see disapproval creep back into her eyes. This dynamic he was more comfortable with.

“Well, surely, I get something, Doctor,” he prodded.

She rolled her eyes ever so slightly. He leaned closer, questioning.

“Doctor?”

“Me,” she finally told him, “You get me.”

“Equals,” he spoke softly, his breath causing a wild strand of her hair to flutter. That small action caused him to cave.

He kissed her.

She didn’t resist, but tilted her head back and let him bury a hand in her hair. He ran a soft thumb along her jawline. Despite the fire inside him, the action felt oddly chaste. He was hungry for her, but he didn’t want to ruin it all at once.

It was a promise, he supposed, of days yet to come.

_You’re thinking of the future._

She was in his head, gentle but wry.

_Rainbows still make me hurl._

She was right though. His hearts still ached, but so did hers, for he could feel it through their connection. They were tired, wrung out. In spite of the exhaustion though, in her head and in her hearts he could sense those multitudes shining through, all those wonders of an ancient, magnetic, brilliant soul. It was a soul he would never stop wanting.

Maybe one day, he’d know a fraction of that peace they did.


End file.
